(The events leading up to the end of Brooklyn's Day Twenty)
"Alright, alright calm down gentlemen! We need to decide now whether Miss White should keep or drop the gun we gave her," The council president announced to the unruly crowd, "How many say she should drop the gun?"
Five people raise their hands.
"How many say she should keep the gun?"
Twenty people raise their hands.
"Majority rules in favor of keeping it. Okay, that's one thing off of the agenda today. Next thing is...will she shoot: yes or no? Who votes yes?"
The majority raise their hands in the air.
"Well, there's a majority vote, so the final events shall be as follows: Miss White will keep the weapon and then proceed to shoot Mister Hounsome during their encounter. Let's take a 15 minute break before I take my leave."
"Should I get the popcorn, sir?" George asked after the decision had been finalized.
"Yes, with extra butter."
(Directly after the chosen ending of Brooklyn's Day Twenty)
"Natalia, of all the times you could've came in, you had to choose now?" Brooklyn asked as she looked at Ryan's unconscious body. Well, I thought you would go and have a little one on one with Ryan, if you know what I mean, but then I come here to see you making awful movie references again. Man, I should've seen that coming.
"I couldn't think of anything else to say. I just shot him for God's sake!"
Natalia, having figured out how to interact with real world objects, kicked Ryan's body, making him flip over, Damn. You really screwed up this time. I think he's dead.
Brooklyn walked over to him and pushed her foot on his abs, which prompted a weak "Not my babies" to escape from Ryan's mouth, "Nope, not dead." Then that gun was a fake? Hmph, no wonder.
"No wonder what?" Just that you fall more times than leaves fall off trees. I didn't expect you to get an actual weapon.
"I can handle myself perfectly fine, thank you very much. It's not my fault that I--" a groan coming from Ryan stopped her rant. She looked over at the man and again checked to see if he was alive. He wasn't. Oh my god you killed Ryan.
"Well, sorry for caring about my own life."
Someone cleared their throat from a few feet away, "Indeed it is a tough world to live in, where one must strive to survive."
"Hey, you're that President guy from that council!" Brooklyn shouted with a pointed finger.
"Yes, that's me. I'm here to congratulate you on winning our little games."
"What, no balloons, no confetti, no music?"
"We're on a budget."
"Do I get anything then?"
"There's this certificate," he handed a piece of paper to Brook.
"This is just the back of parking ticket scribbled in crayon!"
"Like I said, budget cuts."
"And I'm not accepting this piece of trash anyway. This whole thing is sick! Why would you do this?"
"Sheer boredom. I'm old. I've got time. And I'm tired of being in charge of MCing the bingo nights every Wednesday." Wouldn't you be participating?
"Oh Natalia, you're still here. How nice," the President commented, ignoring her insult, "Well, that's everything. I must be off."
"Wait a minute grandpa, I'm not done. You can't just leave me here!"
"I guess you're right. It's the least I could do."
"Thank God I can finally get off this island."
"Now, just click your heels three times, and--"
"No. I'm not falling for that lame excuse of a joke."
"Kids these days, but very well Miss White. Next stop, Rio de Janeiro!" President Stone snapped his fingers, and Brooklyn's surroundings changed.
"Excuse me, Miss. Miss?"
"Huh? Oh, sorry. I must've fallen asleep," Brooklyn said from her seat, "Weird dream."
"That's perfectly fine. I'm here to inform you that we'll be experiencing some turbulence along the way."
"Okay, thank you."
Brooklyn stretched and looked around her, seeing that the other passengers of her flight were going about their business. The passenger directly to her left chuckled at her routine, "Practicing for the Olympics? Hi, my name's Grant."
"Brooklyn. Was that a way to flirt with me?"
"No, no. I was just trying to break the ice and all." Attention passengers, our flight to Rio will take approximately eight more hours. Thank you.
"Well, more time to get to know each other then."
Two hours, three hours, four hours, all passed by easily. During the fifth hour, however, something else was in mind. The plane mysteriously lost altitude at an alarming rate, crashing down on a remote set of islands. Search parties came and concluded that no one survived the crash.
"Tell me again why we created a fake plane crash, had them fight for their nonexistent lives, repeated the events of said fake crash, and made everyone die in the end?"
"Because why not?"
"Alright, alright calm down gentlemen! We need to decide now whether Miss White should keep or drop the gun we gave her," The council president announced to the unruly crowd, "How many say she should drop the gun?"
Five people raise their hands.
"How many say she should keep the gun?"
Twenty people raise their hands.
"Majority rules in favor of keeping it. Okay, that's one thing off of the agenda today. Next thing is...will she shoot: yes or no? Who votes yes?"
The majority raise their hands in the air.
"Well, there's a majority vote, so the final events shall be as follows: Miss White will keep the weapon and then proceed to shoot Mister Hounsome during their encounter. Let's take a 15 minute break before I take my leave."
"Should I get the popcorn, sir?" George asked after the decision had been finalized.
"Yes, with extra butter."
(Directly after the chosen ending of Brooklyn's Day Twenty)
"Natalia, of all the times you could've came in, you had to choose now?" Brooklyn asked as she looked at Ryan's unconscious body.
Well, I thought you would go and have a little one on one with Ryan, if you know what I mean, but then I come here to see you making awful movie references again. Man, I should've seen that coming.
"I couldn't think of anything else to say. I just shot him for God's sake!"
Natalia, having figured out how to interact with real world objects, kicked Ryan's body, making him flip over, Damn. You really screwed up this time. I think he's dead.
Brooklyn walked over to him and pushed her foot on his abs, which prompted a weak "Not my babies" to escape from Ryan's mouth, "Nope, not dead."
Then that gun was a fake? Hmph, no wonder.
"No wonder what?"
Just that you fall more times than leaves fall off trees. I didn't expect you to get an actual weapon.
"I can handle myself perfectly fine, thank you very much. It's not my fault that I--" a groan coming from Ryan stopped her rant. She looked over at the man and again checked to see if he was alive. He wasn't.
Oh my god you killed Ryan.
"Well, sorry for caring about my own life."
Someone cleared their throat from a few feet away, "Indeed it is a tough world to live in, where one must strive to survive."
"Hey, you're that President guy from that council!" Brooklyn shouted with a pointed finger.
"Yes, that's me. I'm here to congratulate you on winning our little games."
"What, no balloons, no confetti, no music?"
"We're on a budget."
"Do I get anything then?"
"There's this certificate," he handed a piece of paper to Brook.
"This is just the back of parking ticket scribbled in crayon!"
"Like I said, budget cuts."
"And I'm not accepting this piece of trash anyway. This whole thing is sick! Why would you do this?"
"Sheer boredom. I'm old. I've got time. And I'm tired of being in charge of MCing the bingo nights every Wednesday."
Wouldn't you be participating?
"Oh Natalia, you're still here. How nice," the President commented, ignoring her insult, "Well, that's everything. I must be off."
"Wait a minute grandpa, I'm not done. You can't just leave me here!"
"I guess you're right. It's the least I could do."
"Thank God I can finally get off this island."
"Now, just click your heels three times, and--"
"No. I'm not falling for that lame excuse of a joke."
"Kids these days, but very well Miss White. Next stop, Rio de Janeiro!" President Stone snapped his fingers, and Brooklyn's surroundings changed.
"Excuse me, Miss. Miss?"
"Huh? Oh, sorry. I must've fallen asleep," Brooklyn said from her seat, "Weird dream."
"That's perfectly fine. I'm here to inform you that we'll be experiencing some turbulence along the way."
"Okay, thank you."
Brooklyn stretched and looked around her, seeing that the other passengers of her flight were going about their business. The passenger directly to her left chuckled at her routine, "Practicing for the Olympics? Hi, my name's Grant."
"Brooklyn. Was that a way to flirt with me?"
"No, no. I was just trying to break the ice and all."
Attention passengers, our flight to Rio will take approximately eight more hours. Thank you.
"Well, more time to get to know each other then."
Two hours, three hours, four hours, all passed by easily. During the fifth hour, however, something else was in mind. The plane mysteriously lost altitude at an alarming rate, crashing down on a remote set of islands. Search parties came and concluded that no one survived the crash.
"Tell me again why we created a fake plane crash, had them fight for their nonexistent lives, repeated the events of said fake crash, and made everyone die in the end?"
"Because why not?"
Hounsome's reaction to both his death and the game wrap up: https://youtu.be/LTqw5_bcH-s
Concluding song: